Breaking The News
by PepperF
Summary: AU. How did you tell someone that their child was going to be humanity's last hope?


If the Terminator had been blown up with the tanker truck in the first film... I wrote this in about an hour, so if it's dreadful at least it's brief. Feedback is most welcome, but I toast easily. The Terminator, Kyle Reese, and John and Sarah Connor all belong to James Cameron. No infringement of copyright was intended; these characters are used without permission, and not for profit.

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How did you tell someone that their child was going to be humanity's last hope?

"Sarah?"

Sarah looked up, and smiled to see Kyle's eyes open and clear at last. His fever had broken sometime in the night, and he'd been sleeping peacefully since – not even waking when she went to check the perimeter, even though he'd been the one to beg her to make sure to do it. "Hey there. How're you feeling?"

Kyle blinked at her, processing the words slowly. "Tired," he said, finally. "Where are we?"

"Arizona. D'you remember arriving at the motel? The place with the orange walls? We've been here a week."

Kyle's eyes widened in alarm. "A week? Hell, Sarah – it ain't safe. You know it ain't..." He coughed weakly, but persisted. "We've gotta keep moving."

Sarah smiled, a little sadly. "No, Kyle. We've gotta stop. Just for the time being. It would have killed you, if we'd kept going any further. You nearly died as it was." When he opened his mouth to protest further, she picked up a glass of water and held it to his lips. He fell silent, sipping thirstily, but his eyes told her that the argument wasn't over. He was too tired to put up any more of a fight that time, and as soon as he'd finished drinking, his eyes drifted shut, and he was asleep again in moments. Sarah ran a gentle hand over his forehead, more for comfort than to check his temperature, which was reassuringly normal again. Then she got up, and began to pace the small motel room.

They'd been there a week today, and Kyle had been unconscious and delirious for most of that time, finally unable to run any further as his injuries threatened to overwhelm him. She'd spent a week in terrified suspense, desperately wanting to load him into the car and take him to the nearest hospital, but certain that he'd be up and running from there again the moment he got his legs under him again – just as he'd done before. After they'd blown that hellish machine to kingdom come, he'd been rushed to hospital with gunshot wounds to his chest and arm. That, plus all the other scrapes and bruises they'd both picked up along the way, and the nervous exhaustion they were both suffering from, had only been sufficient to keep him there for three days. As soon as he could drag himself out of bed and remain conscious, he'd led them off on this wild run, escaping both the hospital and the police who wanted to question them about the trail of destruction left in their wake. Only sheer grit had kept him going this long, and the moment they'd reached this abandoned motel – defensible, remote, the only place he'd even considered stopping in – he'd succumbed to his wounds, and collapsed. And Sarah had been nursing him since, afraid she'd kill him with ignorance. Fortunately, they'd picked up enough supplies – both food and medical – to keep them going for a while, and at one of the stores she'd had the foresight to grab a first-aid manual. She'd had nothing else to read, over the last week, and had learned a lot more than just how to care for gunshot wounds and fever. But no manual could tell her how to deal with her current situation.

If it hadn't been so awful, it might almost have been funny. Kyle Reese had been sent back in time by her own son, to protect her so that he could be born – only Kyle, who wasn't due to be born for about twenty years, after an apocalyptic war that hadn't happened yet, was going to be the father – and he didn't know it... It was fiendishly complicated, full of what-ifs, and gave Sarah something to puzzle over when she wasn't studying the first-aid manual. Had John known? Because Kyle certainly hadn't. And if Kyle hadn't been sent back, what would have happened? Would she have had a child with someone else? Would this theoretical other child have become a great leader? Would he have sent Kyle back in time? How the hell did this time travel thing work anyhow? It was paradoxical, and it gave her a headache just to think about thinking about it.

One time. Sarah grinned, despite everything. They'd done it once, and now she was pregnant. Her mother would have had a field day. She glanced down at Kyle's sleeping face, so peaceful in repose, and the grin turned fond. She wouldn't have changed it for anything – no matter what came of it, whether he was fated to be John's father or not – she wouldn't have given up that night for anything in the world. He'd been so desperately tender, so close, so loving, so passionate...

How in the name of everything holy was she going to tell him?

Kyle woke again, a few hours later, and stayed awake long enough to argue with her again about loading him into the car and moving on, and then he'd sunk back under. She'd listened calmly to all his reasons for moving, and had countered with a detailed description of how she was keeping them safe – the perimeter patrols, the hidden vehicle, the distance they were from anyone and everyone, the fact that there was a functioning well and the only car she'd seen in seven days had been their own, and the only newspaper she'd found in the place had been from 1979... By the time he'd woken up for the third time, he'd given in to the idea of stopping – just for a little while. Instead, he'd given her advice on how better to secure the place, and finally closed his eyes again with a relieved look.

Of course, maybe her period was just late. Really, really late. But they hadn't been careful, and it had felt like something had happened between them, and she did feel different, somehow. Besides, she knew that she would have a son at some point, because that son had sent Kyle to her (headache again). She didn't want to have a child with anyone else... but she was too young, she didn't know what she was doing, how could the fate of the world be resting on her shoulders? She simply wasn't the best person for the job!

She wasn't sure what she planned to do when Kyle was well again. Slapping him for getting her into this situation held a certain appeal. Re-experiencing that night also sounded good. And if she wasn't already pregnant, then there was a good chance she soon would be; it just seemed inevitable. They hadn't thought to buy condoms, and she could feel the heavy spark of desire every time his eyes met hers. Her body ached to be close to him again, and by the way his eyes darkened and intensified and his fingers traced over her arm she could tell he felt the same, even if he wasn't in any state to do anything about it yet... It was like a forest fire in her blood: persistent, unstoppable, flaring up when she least expected it.

So with all this on her mind, when it finally came to it, she forgot all her tact. "I think I'm pregnant."

Kyle stared at her. He'd eaten his first solid food in over a week today, his recovery was really coming along, and she just hadn't been able to wait any longer. "What?"

"I'm fairly sure. I haven't got a test or anything, but I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant." She met his eyes. It didn't look like he was taking this in. "I think it must be John." How absurd – she wasn't even sure if there was a child in her body, but Kyle had served under his command. Time travel was a bastard. Was there any good way to tell someone that they were going to be having their commanding officer? Obviously the way she'd gone about it wasn't it.

"What?"

Maybe she should have waited until he was stronger. Would he have a relapse, if he was sufficiently shocked? Because he certainly looked shocked enough. His face had gone as white as the sheets – whiter, in fact: they hadn't been that white to begin with. "I think I'm pregnant with John. I think we – you and I – are going to have a baby. John Connor. Who will grow up into the saviour of the human race," she added, unnecessarily sharply.

"That's impossible." He'd sailed through confusion and was now cruising the shark-infested waters of denial.

Sarah put her hands on her hips. "Did anyone ever tell you about the birds and the bees?" she asked. "Because what we did back in that motel – well, it can have side effects, you know."

Kyle's brows drew together in a frown. "But – but John never said anything about... Surely he'd have told me?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't met him. Yet. You know him better than me – would he have told you, assuming I am pregnant and assuming he knew who his father is? Was. Will be."

"Oh god." Kyle ran a hand through his hair, visibly distressed now. "Oh god. No. He might not have told me. Not if I hadn't known the first time around – or the first time around from his point of view." He leaned forwards, drawing his knees into his chest and staring at her. "Oh god," he croaked for the third time.

At this point, Sarah began to wish she'd broken the news a little more gently. She sank to the bed beside him, and put her hands on his. "I'm not certain," she offered. His eyes looked up, quickening with hope. "But I don't want to have a baby with anyone else," she added, forlornly. "I'm not sure I want to have a baby at all. It's too soon – I'm not prepared." Kyle put his arms around her then, and pulled her close, clinging tightly and burying his face in her neck. For a while they just sat there. "Kyle," she said eventually, slowly, "when does it happen? The nuclear war, I mean."

"1997. August 29th is when the first bomb is dropped. Judgement Day."

Sarah shivered. "And how old was John then? Do you know?"

"Thirteen..." It wasn't a pregnancy test in any practical sense, but they both sat and counted backwards for a moment. "God," said Kyle finally, wonderingly.

Sarah gave something between a laugh and a sob. "Well, if I'm not, then I soon will be," she said. They lifted their heads and stared at one another. Kyle swallowed convulsively, and ran a hand through her hair. She could see the moment when acceptance settled in him.

"God, Sarah..." He pulled her close, suddenly, and kissed her with all his pent-up passion. When he released her they were both breathless. "John is our son." His eyes ran over her face, and he brought his hands to cup her cheeks, kissing her tenderly. "Our son."

"I love you, Kyle." She wasn't aware of the tears that ran down her cheeks. Kyle brushed them gently away with his thumbs.

"I love you too, Sarah." He kissed her again. "I've always loved you." And again. "I will always love you." And again. "You're so beautiful."

"When he's old enough, I'm gonna kick his little ass for making us go through this," she muttered, kissing him back.

Kyle laughed against her mouth, breathless and incredulous. "This is unbelievable. Incredible."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm gonna kick his ass too."

"Yeah."

He pulled her down to the bed with him, twisting so that she was flat on her back and trapped in his arms. "You're gonna have my baby, Sarah Connor."

And the light in his eyes told her just how he felt about that.

END. 


End file.
